Father and Son
by YAY Productions
Summary: Splinter and Mikey spend some personal one on one time...on the surface. Warning: Very fluffy. Written for RachelErica's contest on deviantART. Oneshot, R&R.


**A/N: Here's my piece for RachelErica's contest :D Hope you guys enjoy!**

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"Sensei, why do never come to the surface with us?" The single question caught Splinter off guard. It came from his youngest son, although Michelangelo was quite inquisitive, the inquiry was unlike anything he had been asked before. Oh, the questions he had been asked had ranged from all kinds of things, like why colors are colors, why they were turtles, and more importantly, why he, a rat, was Michelangelo and his three other turtle brothers' father. No matter how small or how large though, Splinter always answered each one diligently, giving the best response he could.

As each one of them had grown, each one of Splinter's sons had asked specific questions, and each one had grown out of it in their own special way. Leonardo chose to lean on his favorite hero, Captain Ryan, and solve his questions by himself. Raphael opted to punch all of his questions until the answers popped out. Donatello dove deep, searching for what he hunted for. It was probably a good thing too, as many of his questions were beyond Splinter.

But Michelangelo...the smallest one, the happiest one, he never found his own path. His own way. He still leaned on his father, but that was something Splinter did not mind. It often gave them time together that he would not have otherwise, delving into why things were. But this time...this question was different.

"Sensei?" Michelangelo looked up at him, his bright blue eyes sparkling with a mixture of fear and curiosity. "Did you hear me?"

"Hai," Splinter nodded, rubbing his beard.

"So...?"

Splinter's heart pounded in his chest. How could he tell his son? How could he tell him that it was one thing he was afraid of? "Michelangelo..." Sighing, Splinter could hardly bring himself to stare his son in the eyes. "There are just some things better left unsaid."

It was moments like these that made Splinter forget his son was not five anymore, but rather fifteen. The large, begging eyes made his heart crack, and he couldn't help but sigh. Looking away, he stared at the picture that decorated his bookshelf. It was when he was still human, before he had lost, and yet gained, everything. His wife stood by his side, their daughter in her arms.

"Father..." Standing tall, Splinter was surprised at how much Michelangelo had grown. Muscles rippled from the years of ninjutsu training, betraying the true nature of the warrior standing before him. He may be innocent, but he was still a ninja, and a good one at that. "...Leo is fanboying over Captain Ryan, Raph is having a make out session with his punching bag, and Donnie is doing his whole mad scientist thing in his lab. Can you and I go up to the surface? Just us two?"

Splinter couldn't help but chuckle at how his youngest pictured his brothers. Though highly accurate in some ways, there were also misconceived presumptions in his statement. But...but the question still remained. The surface? Or staying here?

"We can get pi-zza!" The last word had been said almost in a singing voice, as if it was a way to tempt or bribe Splinter. Although the food was good, he preferred, "...or sushi. Your choice," Michelangelo knew him to well. "I think you and Murakmai-san would get along."

Splinter rubbed his temple. It had been a decade and a half since he was last up on the surface...why should he break it now? Because he had to conquer what held him back, he had to fight what burdened him. "Alright Michelangelo."

"Yes!" His youngest leapt into the air, shouting. "Booyakasha!"

Shaking his head, Splinter could only wonder what his son meant by that. The older meanings of that word stretched back to Africa, and was rather rude. However, if he was correct, the more modern version was nothing more than slang talk for a severe 'smack down' as his sons so often said.

"Well, come on!" Reaching for him, Michelangelo grabbed his father by the wrist, and took off down the halls. Splinter could just see him now, when he was younger, doing the same thing. Often times it was for nothing more than a new discovery of the world around him, but this time it was different. He was taking him to the old world, but he wanted him to experience something new.

As they neared a manhole, Splinter could feel the excitement in his young son. But, unbeknownst to him, he was now a master, his father the student. The pupil had become the sensei in an odd twist of fate, but it was welcomed by the apprentice.

New York hadn't changed much since Splinter had ducked his head underground. People still bustled about despite it being night, their famed charm still holding to custom. But there was something refreshing in the air, something...liberating.

It hadn't taken long for Splinter to make Mr. Murakmai's acquaintance, nor did the meal he prepared for them last long. It was delicious, yes, but the best thing about it was sitting beside Michelangelo. His mind was unique by any standards, and he spoke of things that Splinter realized his brothers did not know of. The mind of the youngest Hamato clan member was an artist, developing patience through his practice that rivaled Leonardo's. He just had yet to apply himself. His love of 'kicking butt' was much like Raphael, and his ability to come up with new things was much like Donatello. He was all of his brothers, but he was himself as well. He was Michelangelo, and he was Splinter's son.

Laughing as he touched Splinter's shoulder and shouting, "Tag!", Michelangelo took off running. Splinter was swift, using the shadows to his advantage, and quickly overcame his son. Whispering in his ear from the darkness, Splinter touched his plastron.

"You're it."

"No fair!" The boy laughed, using his father's hesitation to his advantage. Leaping, he tackled his father down, pushing him to the concrete. His giggles were contagious, and Splinter found himself laughing as well. "Thank Dad."

The phrase came from no where in particular, and once again something Michelangelo said caught him off guard. "For what?"

"For everything," The young voice was sullen. "For taking us to live with you. For raising us. For..." Michelangelo looked up and smiled. "For loving us. I love you Dad."

Helping his son stand, Splinter embraced him. "I love you too Michelangelo."

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**A/N: Thanks for reading! Could you please review? I accept anonymous ones in case you didn't know :D But again, double, triple thanks!**


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